A Fatal Fabergé

by Ellery Adams

  Molly was stunned. “You’re saying Natasha knew?”

  “Am I speaking English or a foreign language? Yes, she knew.”

  “But that can’t be right. Natasha told me she didn’t know Galina took the egg until after she’d left for Florida. Maxim backs up her story, and so does Peggy.”

  He clucked his tongue. “Tsk, tsk. People are not being honest with you, Molly. Don’t be loyal to them. You don’t owe them anything.”

  “I’m not being loyal. I’m trying to find out who killed Curtis. And let me tell you this, Mr. Dyson, if the egg is connected to his death, it’s only a matter of time before the police find your client and question both of you. Maybe you should be more concerned about that, because I have your name. Actually, I’m not even going to wait. I’m going to call Lombardi and report you.”

  “For what?”

  “Bribing me to steal the egg, stalking me, and sitting outside my house.”

  “Well, technically speaking, I’ve been sitting in my car outside your neighbor’s house, not your house. As for the stalking and bribing, it’s your word against mine, buttercup.”

  “Don’t call me that,” Molly snapped.

  “Ooh, touchy.” He took another step toward her. “I told you, I want the egg.”

  “If the egg is ever found, you can take it up with Natasha.” She started walking back to her car, but he grabbed her arm and held her back. Molly glared at him. Dyson frightened her, but she wasn’t going to put up with this any longer. “Take your hand off of me,” she said through gritted teeth.

  He released her arm, flashed a smile. “You’re feisty. And brave. I like that.” He held out his hands, as if surrendering. “I mean you no harm. I just want the egg. It would be in your best interests to find it and give it to me. And before you accuse me of threatening you, let me remind you I’m incentivizing you with six million dollars. Think about it.”

  “Even if I knew where the egg was, I wouldn’t give it to you. As I said, it belongs to Natasha. It’s up to her to decide if she wants to sell it, if she can even find it.” She paused. “Which begs the question, why haven’t you talked to her?”

  “And have her call the cops? No. I don’t think so.”

  “You weren’t worried about Curtis calling the police. Why are you worried about her?”

  “I told you, Galina told my client Natasha was having second thoughts. I can’t risk her going to the cops because my client wants to keep this a private matter. And by the way, I did some research on Galina before she met with my guy in Florida, and when I did a little digging into Curtis’s background, I found out about the debt, and I figured he was the perfect person to approach.” He paused. “You said no one cares that he’s dead, but that’s not quite true. I care. In fact, I’m very upset about it, and so is my client. Curtis was on board; he would have gone through with the sale. Now he’s dead, so I’m appealing to you because I’m confident you can find that egg.”

  “I have no idea where it is, and I’m done talking to you.”

  Molly marched back to her car with her head held high. She wasn’t going to let Dyson get under her skin. As she opened the car door, he called out, “Will you at least let me know if you, or someone else, finds the egg?”

  She supposed this wasn’t an unreasonable request. It might also make him go away and leave her alone. “As long as Natasha is in possession of the egg, I’ll let you know,” she said. “Then you can take it up with her.”

  He nodded. “Fair enough, Molly. But if you find the egg first, and you change your mind, my client’s offer stands.”

  Chapter 15

  Molly sat on the bench in the mudroom and took a few deep breaths. Starling stood in the kitchen doorway with Tyler balanced on her hip.

  “Are you okay, Aunt Molly? I saw you out the window talking to that man. I was getting scared. I almost called Tony.”

  “I’m fine, really,” Molly said. “He works for the man who wanted to buy the egg. He still wants to buy it.” She stood up and took off her coat. “I have to tell Lombardi. I’ll fill you in later. Have you two eaten lunch?”

  “Not yet. I was going to chop up the rest of the hard-boiled eggs to make egg salad sandwiches. Would you like one?”

  “I would, thank you.”

  Molly went into her office and shut the door. She dialed Lombardi, expecting to get his voice mail, but he answered.

  “I thought you were interviewing Joey Blair at Precision Auto,” she said.

  “I’m on my way there right now,” he said. “What’s up?”

  “Someone’s been following me.” She told him about Noble Dyson. “I have his license plate number, if you want it.”

  “Yeah, I do. Text it to me and I’ll check him out. Also, if you see him, or hear from him again, call me immediately. You really shouldn’t have handled this on your own. What were you thinking?”

  “I didn’t want to waste your time. For all I knew he was a prospective home buyer.”

  “But he wasn’t, and he frightened you.”

  “Yes, he did. He also made me mad. I don’t know what to believe. If Natasha did know her sister was going to sell the egg, why is everyone lying about it?”

  “Dyson could be the one who’s lying,” he said. “Could he have bought a ticket to the gala ball at the door?”

  “I’m not sure. Matt purchased our tickets online. I don’t think the woman who was collecting the tickets at the door was selling them, but I could be wrong.”

  “I’ve got her name. I’ll ask her.”

  “If Dyson wanted to sneak into the event, he could have gotten in through the service entrance on the east wing of the house,” she said. “It opens to a corridor that goes past the kitchen into the rest of the house. The caterers must have used it the other night. All he’d have to do is wear a coat over his tux, pretend to be staff, and once inside, ditch the coat and walk into the party. He’d blend right in, and no one would know he didn’t have a ticket.”

  “Did he mention the name of the hotel where he’s staying?”

  “No. Sorry, I didn’t think to ask.”

  “That’s okay. He’s probably on his way back to Boston. Now that he’s dangled six million dollars in front of your nose, he won’t feel the need to hang around.”

  “I told him I’m not interested in the money.”

  “Yes, but you also told him you’d let him know if Natasha gets the egg back, and since he’s aware of your investigative skills, he’s probably feeling pretty good about things right about now. I’ll get in touch with the Boston PD and see if they know anything about him.”

  “With this new development,” she said, “I’m even more convinced that the Fabergé egg is the reason Curtis was killed.”

  “You could be right, but I still need a lot more to prove it. Did you get the impression he talked to someone else besides Curtis?”

  “No. If he did, why was he following me around?”

  “Could be Dyson and his client concluded that if anyone was capable of finding the egg, it’s you. If I was in their shoes, I’d think so, too.”

  “How am I supposed to find it? It’s not like I can search the cottage or anywhere else on the estate. That’s your job.”

  “Right. Forget I said anything about you finding the egg. I want to make an arrest in this case, but I don’t want it to be you. I’m almost at Precision Auto.”

  “One more thing before you go,” she said. “I was wondering if you could get hold of a copy of the police report on Galina’s death.”

  “Sure, it shouldn’t be a problem. But why do you want it?”

  “It was something Dyson said to me about my visit to the cemetery. He said it would be one for the books if I’d had a chat with the late Galina Cobb.”

  “He was trying to be funny, and it fell flat. What’s the big deal?”

  “I don’t know, there was something about the way he said it, and it’s not sitting right with me.”

  “Okay, I’ll get back to
you with the report. In the meantime, stay out of trouble.”

  “Don’t I always?”

  He laughed and hung up.

  Chapter 16

  Molly made another call, this time to Carl Swanson, her boss. She’d been putting it off and wanted to get it over with. He answered in his usual bombastic voice, “Appleby! About time you checked in. How’s that article on folk art portraitures coming along?”

  “I got sidetracked with something else,” she said. “Remember I told you Matt and I were going to a charity ball at Misty Vale?”

  “Yeah. Saturday night, the black-tie shindig. Did something happen?”

  “There was a murder.”

  Swanson went into a coughing fit, and Molly held her phone away from her ear. He was a chain-smoker who’d tried to quit more than a few times, but it never lasted long. When he could finally breathe again, he wheezed, “Another murder, that’s great news.” Molly thought she could hear him rubbing his hands together. He was obsessed with the magazine’s circulation rate. He didn’t care if someone died for a story, as long as it brought in more subscribers. “Tell me what happened, and don’t leave anything out.” Molly gave him a full rundown on the case, but she kept her theories out of it. She stuck to the facts as she knew them. When she was done, he said, “If you aren’t ready to send me something on folk art portraitures, you better get a move on with the murder case. I need something soon. Do you think you can find the egg?”

  Molly frowned. Why did everyone think she could find it? “No one has been able to find the egg,” she said. “And don’t forget, there are other reasons Curtis could have been killed.” She felt she owed it to Lombardi to mention this fact, even if she did prefer the egg as the motive. “He was gambling, and according to Maxim, he owed a lot of money.”

  “I get it, the man was in debt, but the egg is worth a fortune, and the egg would have solved all of his problems. Can’t you search Curtis’s house?”

  “I told you, Lombardi needs a warrant but doesn’t feel he has enough to go on yet to get it.”

  “I’m not talking about Lombardi, I’m talking about you.”

  Molly stared at the phone. What was it with Swanson? Had she taken too many risks in the past that he assumed she would do something illegal? “I can’t just break into the cottage,” she said.

  “I’m not suggesting you do. Go see Hattie again, and tell her Natasha gave you permission to search the place. She probably won’t check. From what you’ve told me, they don’t seem to be on speaking terms.”

  Molly thought it over. He was probably right. Hattie wouldn’t check with Natasha. “You know what? That’s a good idea. I’ll give it a try.”

  “Great! Keep in touch, and get me something by Friday.”

  A dial tone sounded in her ear. Molly had her marching orders. Swanson had nothing more to say.

  Chapter 17

  Molly had another restless night as another storm moved in and rain came down in sheets on the roof. It only started to slack off when she got up with Matt at five thirty. She put on her robe and slippers and checked her phone. Her mother had left her a text message: Are you free for breakfast? 7:00 the Crow’s Nest?

  Molly slapped her forehead. She should have called her mother yesterday, but she’d completely forgotten. She texted her back, I’ll see you there.

  By six thirty, Matt had already left for work, and Starling had gotten up with Tyler. Molly ran out the door to meet her mother. The worst of the storm had passed, but it was raining lightly. She felt lucky to find a parking space a few doors down from the Crow’s Nest. It was a small diner on the east side of the city, newly discovered by Clara and Sean. Molly had been there once before, and she was happy to go back since the food was good.

  Clara was waiting for her in a booth, drinking a cup of coffee. Molly slid into the seat opposite her and shrugged out of her coat. Even early in the morning, her mother looked beautiful. She wore a light green cashmere sweater with an orange and gold silk neckerchief tied at her neck, and sparkling diamond studs in her ears. Not a hair was out of place, and her makeup was expertly applied. Molly felt like a slob. She’d been in such a rush, she’d tied her hair back in a ponytail and had thrown on a flannel shirt and jeans. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, not even lipstick.

  The waitress came over to their table. “You ladies need some time to look at the menu?”

  “Actually, I’m ready to order,” Molly said. “I’ll have scrambled eggs with a side of bacon and hash browns.”

  The waitress held up the carafe she was holding. “Coffee?”

  “Yes, please.” Molly turned her mug over.

  The waitress filled her mug to the brim, which always irritated Molly, since she liked to add cream to it. Then she topped off Clara’s and said, “How about you, hon?”

  Clara said, “I’ll have the ham and cheese omelet with whole wheat toast, and a fruit cup.”

  The waitress nodded and hurried off without writing it down. Molly hoped she’d remember their order. There was a line forming at the door, and all the tables were filled.

  Clara took a sip of coffee, and Molly noticed she’d painted her nails a pretty shade of orange to go with the autumn weather theme she had going on with her outfit.

  “How was Boston? Did you and Sean enjoy visiting his friends?”

  “Yes, we did.” Clara looked at her. “I hear you’ve been busy. When were you going to tell me you’re helping Lombardi on the Curtis Cobb case?”

  Molly blew her breath out. “I’m sorry, Ma. I was going to call you yesterday but I didn’t get a chance. Who told you?”

  “Tony, last night.” Clara and Starling were the only people Molly knew who called Lombardi by his first name. It usually sounded cute when they said it, but at that moment she felt annoyed with him. He should have warned her that he’d spoken to her mother, although to be fair, he probably didn’t want to get stuck in the middle of a mother-daughter squabble. Clara went on. “He called Sean late last night to ask if he knew anything about Curtis and his bookstore. Sean put the call on speaker, so I heard everything.”

  Molly drank some of her coffee and then stirred in some creamer. “Matt and I were at the gala ball when Curtis died,” she said. “I’d met him earlier that night, along with his son, Maxim, who I like very much. Maxim asked me to look into his father’s death. I couldn’t say no.”

  Clara leaned back in the booth. “You never say no,” she said. “You should have called me on Sunday.”

  “I didn’t want to spoil your trip to Boston.”

  “I thought you forgot to call.”

  “Oh, Ma. I’m sorry.”

  Clara waved her hand in the air. “Never mind, dear. It doesn’t matter,” she said. “I did find the story about the Fabergé egg fascinating. But I’m concerned about this Noble Dyson person. He sounds dangerous.”

  “Geez, what didn’t Lombardi tell you? Nothing happened. It was broad daylight, and Starling was keeping an eye on things from the house.”

  “Tony thinks he’s gone back to Boston, but what if he hasn’t? He’s obviously desperate to get his hands on the egg.”

  “Maybe I should have taken him up on his offer. I could use six million dollars.”

  “Molly!”

  “I’m joking, Ma.” And trying to lighten up this conversation a little, she thought. “I told him if Natasha found the egg, I’d let him know, and then he and his client could talk to her about buying it. I thought that seemed fair.”

  “Are you going to tell Natasha that he approached you?”

  “No, I’ll leave that up to Lombardi.”

  Clara took a sip of her coffee. “Do you think Dyson was telling the truth, that Natasha was in on the sale from the beginning?”

  “I don’t know.” Molly glanced out the window. The wait line for the diner was out the door, snaking down the sidewalk. She was glad her mother had gotten there early. “He could be lying. I think it’s weird that Natasha would lie about it. Not to mention every
one else. There would have to be a reason.”

  “Maybe the others don’t know,” Clara said. “Maybe she agreed to sell the egg to help her sister, and they were in on it together, right from the start. Tony said Natasha’s been supporting her for years.”

  “I’m so glad he called you and Sean last night,” Molly said. “It saves me the trouble of having to brief you.”

  “You sound annoyed, dear. I’m simply trying to help you. The sooner you get the case solved, the sooner you’ll be out of it, and out of harm’s way.”

  “You’re not going to tell me to leave it alone?”

  “I know my maternal powers are limited when it comes to persuading you not to work on a mysterious death.”

  Molly smiled. It was true. “Yes, but I always end up telling you everything anyway, and you always offer your advice and your opinion, which I appreciate.” She paused. “I promise I’ll be careful.” She hated having to say it, but she knew her mother expected it.

  “I’ll hold you to that promise,” Clara said. “Now, getting back to the egg. They would have gotten a lot more money for it if they’d auctioned it off.”

  The smell of fried bacon was making Molly’s mouth water. “I know, but for over a hundred years, the family has had a pact to keep the egg a deep, dark secret. Natasha wouldn’t risk going to an auction house, not even a reputable one that would protect her anonymity, she’s that paranoid.”

  “I think it’s a shame Galina didn’t listen to her parents about marrying Curtis. I know what they did was wrong, but what Natasha said about them having her best interests at heart could be true. They may have been trying to use tough love on her.”

  “If they were, they went way overboard,” Molly said. “I know she was young, but she was in love, and it was her decision to make, not theirs. Even Natasha agreed it was her choice. She thought their parents were unkind. I think that’s the reason she helped her with the bills and let her live in the cottage. She felt guilty about inheriting everything, while Galina was left out in the cold.”